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annh Aug 2020
Three Scottish hags brew up a political storm in a...cauldron.
Inspired by Suri Ben N who got me overthinking about brevity, Shakespeare, alternative storylines, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and the existential milieu in general.

‘We do on stage things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit as being an entrance
somewhere else.’
- Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
Rose Mar 2019
The rule of king is lonely
Assassination makes the deaths impartial
Leaving the road to glory ******
but the riches are monumental!

Witches say I'm invincible
Was all this premeditated?
Invincibility?the thought is laughable!
Maybe this was fated…

The secret had been discovered
The murders avenged
With the guilt leaving you feel smothered
Oh how I've been challenged

At least the kingdom is ruled by one better than I
Tis a shame that I had to die
King Arthur Apr 2020
My life may have been taken from me
My names just a shadow of another
But these hands can still hold a knife
And take a man’s life
I can crown myself
And become my own god
Of blood, of sacrifice, of vengeance
And if I fall
Let it be by my own hands
Let them them slit my throat
And let no man even think
Of touching me
Adrian Jan 2020
The king was but livestock,
given to the next in line.
His death was a tragedy,
but another arose from it.
chaos uprooted justice,
and bit by corrupted bit,
the monarch transformed.

A demon came from the monarch,
just as a saint had come from the king.
However, since the king was ill livestock,
the monarch would drop like a rock.

Hail Macduff!
Hail the one who hath slain
a most fearsome demon!
inspired by Macbeth. I was thinking along the lines of talking about solely Duncan, and how he was just livestock to feed Macbeth's upcoming reign.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
"A little water clears us of this deed."
We wait and we wonder
If he will show.
He trended too soon, perhaps.
A sinus rhythm about to plateau.
"I have a score to settle,"
He said with his last dying breath.
Nevermind the hearsay,
We witnessed with our own eyes,
He dripped like blood.
And now we'll sleepwalk
With Lady Macbeth,
Looking over our shoulder
For any sound of his return.
A time of iniquity,
Reckoners by proxy.
Put them to bed,
Now they are dreams
Descending into madness.
If we **** our conscience, it will always come back to haunt us
prince Oct 2019
Do i dare speak of him?
The fie which corrupted the soil of our Inverness?
T'was a dream conjured deep in my heart, darkened.
One might say, it was thy hand that grasped the dagger
Yet thy refuse to perceive it so.

Refrain me from the sweetness of Hope's spiteful tongue
Let not it take my naked frailities, my valour.
T'was not my vaulting ambition which o'erleaps itself and falls on th'other.
Though his eyes spoke of his intent, he could not bear the ****** dagger himself.
I pity his fragility, his virtues clear yet no more a man than i.
Too full is he of the milk of human kindness. I hath unsex myself, to therefore bear the fruit of Cawdor.
Unsex me i say? Strip me of this pity. Hie thee, sightless substances enter my home and make me fell, the golden round is merely a breath away.

The Sun shall not see me as it wakes, soon I will no longer be heat-oppressed.
Macbeth does ****** sleep, and so shall i.

Hurry, sweet equivocator.
The guilt spilt stains my skin, as does thine.
I had liv'd a blessed time, yet now there's nothing serious in mortality.
The hell-fire spits at my feet, yet never reaches my heart.
Oh, torture it is, hell-gates open not.
Must i stand by, licked by the flames of Beelzebub yet never truly entering?
Oh woe is me.

My mouth is bitter, the taste of my near'st of life cold.
I see no need to wail, alas the time has come for the devil to cast me.
Please't be readily and alight.
God plead for this to be my final night.
Lawrence Hall Aug 2019
Okay, yeah, sure, a little domestic strife
A resume written with a big ol’ knife
But if you want to get ahead in life
Even a king should listen to his wife
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Luna Feb 2019
Come dear night,
My veil from all the
Dreadful tales of the world
As the sun spirals down
I welcome you with open arms.

Lie with me
Beaneath the moon
That’s not the least
Ashamed to spy on our
Little meeting.

The silence
Left in the wake of dead
Seems to be our piece,
Our cue for the ball
That didn’t happen till yet.

Perfect twirls—
I can’t help but
Feel your loneliness as comfort
To me ;

The night and I —
Perfect companions.
Medusa Oct 2018
"She should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

~Shakespeare, from 'Macbeth'
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